


Heaven Has Teeth

by MoeFox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, BAMF Stiles, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Demon Summoning, F/M, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Not Beta Read, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:29:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoeFox/pseuds/MoeFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles feels abused. Not physically of course (though one can argue the times he has been throw into danger) but mentally he has fallen down the rabbit hole. Feeling rather malicious, he seeks out a deal that will change the entirety of the pack and all of Beacon Hills. The only question now is whether it is for better or worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven Has Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been awhile since I’ve written something outside of a RP or school paper. Hell, I’ve even only done one other fanfiction before and I never finished it. Maybe I’ll finish this one. Thoughts, comments, and suggestions would be very helpful however!  
> P.S. I have only a vague idea of where I'm going with this if I decide to continue, hence the lack of tags. I'll add them as I go for sure!

There were whispers dancing with the sweet breeze as it fluttered through the towering pines. He could hear them, hear every miniscule hiss and condescending comment as they passed by, only to disappear as sudden as they came. Just like people, these voices varied and sometimes even pressed down on his ribs, his face, anywhere just to watch him wilt and bleed. Yet, he found they did not hurt as much as made him angry. Furious even.

Opening his eyes, they caught the glimmer of the moon and pulled it into the iris to make sweet chocolate turn to amber whiskey. They were magnificent, these eyes of his. There was a spark there that burned with knowledge, with empathy, with _power_. Mirrors of the soul. Yet when he blinked was all  buried; agony, yearning, a need for the love he had so desperately earned shadowing such a gorgeous light. There was no one but the moon to witness the replacement of a mask and yet…It knew. The moon had done nothing but watch the poor child in his descent from grace, pushed from his heaven by those that did not understand. Those that never tried to understand.

Perhaps that was why Stiles was so angry. He had tried to be their guardian angel, their brother, their constant. After his role was fulfilled however, he was nothing more than a boy in their mocking eyes. He was nothing more than their scape goat. The boy- no, the man- brought his hands to his thick hair and curled his nails into his scalp. A scream was caught in his throat. Oh how desperately he wanted to yell, to curse! Instead, he found himself bending forward and pulling at his hair while his teeth clenched together in a painful snarl. There was pain there, to be sure. He could feel something wet bubble under his fingers and slip down his cheekbones and against his lips. It was the only smile that had graced his face as of late. One marked by the sheer frustration of him.

Throwing his head back he breathed in deep, mouth agape and yet not sound escaping. A silent break.

After several moments, Stiles let out a breath, his heart stuttering rapidly against his ribcage. When it had stopped, he couldn’t say, but his hands were still steady as he finally leaned down to pick up his bag and walk. Now was not the time for more than a few precious seconds under the night sky’s mother. Tonight was not one for mourning what had been cast aside by others, or to try and tear the mental agony out of his skull. No, with the lunatics busy on their hunt, tonight would be one for opportunity. The thought made Stiles’ face open up with a sharp smile.

Opportunity indeed.

The trees suddenly gave way to road. It was standard in all respects, greying from exposure, the yellow median faded and cracked. There was trash littered along it’s edge, grass too if the sorry brown patches were worth giving a name. Ah, but it was not the road itself that had Stiles’ interest, no. It was the directions it broke off into. One to the East, another to the South, West, and even North. A crossroads. Peering both ways, he pulled up his red hood and started down to the road’s center. Once there, he paused and looked in all directions.

It had been dangerous to wander so far out of familiar but a necessary evil. Stiles wanted no interruptions for what was to come next. He set his bag down and kneeled before it to pull out his needed supplies. It took some time to break down the asphalt with a measly chisel and hammer and he watched his skin break under the few strayed hits, but again his determination would not be smothered so easily. The ground was smeared with blood by the time he created a large enough hole and ever knuckle ached and blossomed with bright bruises.  Tribute to the cause, perhaps. Sighing, the young man managed to drag his bag over and carefully pull out a ratty cardboard box. Really, it was some piece of trash, dusty and smelling of mildew. If time had not been so tight, Stiles would have gotten something prettier. He didn’t think the dealer would mind too much however.

Without much pause, he set it down in the hole, shoving it down to make it fit properly before he started to cover it, each movement sluggish and half hearted. The task was quicker than the digging for sure, one Stiles couldn’t be thankful for. Moving into a sitting position, Stiles stayed there and waited, the gravel rough on his palms and the ever present pressure of time heavy on his shoulders. Time passed, the moon started to descend from her perch, and patience was starting to be pulled taunt. Werewolves, witches, lizard men- He had been so sure these existed too. Beasts that manipulated, slipped through human faces like a snake removing old skin. The bitter reality was hard to swallow.

Full of disappointment, Stiles started to stand.

"Well, well, well, what do we have hear? Did the hatchling fall from his nest?"

Crying out in sheer surprise he  fell back onto the ground and scrambled away on all fours before daring to twist and look behind him. There stood a woman. She was rather pretty, that much Stiles could tell even under nothing but moonlight. Her hair was like ripe wheat in the heart of summer while bright lilac ribbons broke through beautiful curls.  Her clothes were rather surprising. Her shirt was a purple hue with white text across her chest and she wore a plaid skirt and knee high socks decorated with simple black diamonds. Her shoes were simple combat boots. While she was lovely, it was her eyes that Stiles focused on as they were deep dark coals  lined with thick lashes. The eyes of a seductress if the heat in her gaze was anything to go by. She smirked and leaned down to take a closer look at the poor boy.

"A bit young for a midnight stroll, don’t you think?"

"A little cold to be working the corner, don’t you think?" _Shit. Now is not the time for snark, Stiles._

Instead of simply glaring at Stiles and cursing him into oblivion, she raises an eyebrow and let amusement dapple her eyes. “When you have to keep your clients entertained, a bit of a chill is a small price to pay.” The woman started to circle him, a hum in her throat. “But you’d know all about price tags, wouldn’t you Genim? Always the bride’s maid, never the bride. The constant struggle to find the right amount of your own blood to pay the bills. And yet these loans…they are never paid back, am I right?” Unable to help a laugh, she paused in her predatory waltz and looked down at him.

Stiles stared right back. He couldn’t help it really. So many times he had stared into the face of the next monster and greeted Death with a rapid heartbeat and quick wit. Tonight, however, was not one where he feared passing on and leaving the world. Tonight was one where he would be better than the beast with a human face. He stood on shaky legs, face grim. “Isn’t that why I deserve the right to become a debt collector, right? To be the groom, to be Batman instead of Robin, to be _something!_ " As his spoke his voice rose until his entire person quaked with the effort.

The demon however did not flinch, did not even blink. Instead she looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time all over again. Parting her lips she upturned her nose. “What do you want, boy?”

"I want to make a deal."


End file.
